Free Penthouse by Penthouse International Page A

death grip on his back,
     and I’m about to let go when I look up and see Kurt watching the whole proceeding. Whoa! I explode as Rolf slams into me one
     last time. My juices are pouring, and my body is shuddering under him. He’s making some noise himself, that lion. Then Kurt’s
     shadow makes him glance up.
    Kurt and Rolf both look at me like they’re asking permission.
    “Sure, come on.”
    Rolf pulls away from me, and Kurt drops to his knees. His cock comes out stiff, and he starts fucking me right there on the
     ground. Rolf watches a moment, still dreamy in his sexual satisfaction. Then he plays with my breasts and kisses my neck.
     I’ve got his penis in my hand when heshifts around behind me so my head is between his thighs. In a moment I’ve got his cock in my mouth, coaxing it back to full
     strength. Kurt, meanwhile, is fucking me like there’s no tomorrow, and with four hands working over my body, I’m in a frenzy.
     We’re in heat, warm from the sun and getting warmer.
    Kurt says, “Can we do this from behind?” He pulls out, lifts my hips, and turns me around. Up goes the skirt, so my ass is
     exposed to the sun and to his hands, and he enters me from behind with a grunt. Rolf, meanwhile, is getting bigger and bigger
     in my mouth, holding my head gently and rocking me back and forth on his shaft. Kurt’s hands have now gotten control of my
     breasts. He squeezes while he pumps me harder and harder, and the action makes thwacking noises against my thighs. Every so
     often he drops his head onto the curve of my back and licks me. My eyes are shut as Kurt slams into me again and his jism
     squirts up inside me. He falls on my back, panting. Rolf lets go at the same time and shoots down my throat. He helps cushion
     my fall to the ground under Kurt’s weight, and I’m buried under these sweating, handsome men. We’ve only had a moment to recover
     when we hear the iron dinner gong being rung at the barn.
    We collect ourselves and the soccer ball and pick grass from one another’s clothing as we head back for the festivities. Rolf
     says, “You know, I really do like those sneakers.”
    We reach the barn just as Cindi throws her bouquet. It makes an arcing kind of trajectory in my direction and everybody’s
     roaring, including Rolf, but I sidestep the toss and let some other woman catch it. I don’t want to be the next one married.
     I like to keep my options open.

Marie
    BY R OBBI S OMMERS
    O kay, yes, I admit it. I paid for sex—paid for the drinks, paid for the room, and then paid for the woman. One hundred seventy-five
     an hour. A personal ad led me to her. The words—simple and to the point—caught my attention and wouldn’t let go. Escorts.
     Women for women. Discreet. I meant to turn the page, to continue my search for Ann Landers’s column, but instead I found myself
     staring absently at the tiny black-bordered ad.
    Hire a woman? I laughed at the absurdity. Hire a woman? What woman would! And yet I couldn’t seem to pull my focus from those
     five unembellished words. What harm in calling the number, just to see, just to have a feel for how these things work? Not
     that I would ever consider, not that I would have an interest…
    I expected a sleazy answering-machine message, a quick eavesdropping into the life and fantasies of someone else, and then
     I’d hang up. But before I knew what had hit me, I was caught in the middle of a sex-for-hire transaction.Someone had answered the line. Someone wanted to know when, where, and what, specifically, I wanted.
    “I want her to wear a suit and tie.”
I do?
My mind was racing.
I do?
The sudden drop in my belly was reminiscent of a roller-coaster ride. The slamming of my heart drowned out my feeble words.
     Requirements seemed to be spilling from me. What was I doing? Why couldn’t I slow this exchange down? “And she should be taller
     than me, five foot six, five foot seven, with long, tied-back hair.” Oh shit, I was out of